


life sentence

by diana_hawthorne (dhawthorne)



Series: Private Lives [16]
Category: Law & Order
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 11:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19105852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhawthorne/pseuds/diana_hawthorne
Summary: Ben Stone meets his daughter for the first time.Set June 1999.





	life sentence

It’s relaxing to be here, alone, in his comfortable room at the Faculty Club. It’s late, but he’s had an enjoyable evening--dinner with a friend from law school and his wife, a late-night walk along the Charles, and now a new book in bed, a cup of tea at his side. It’s a relief to be away from his reproachful wife, who was so furious at him when he said he’d be gone for two weeks. He’s never seen her that angry before. She is not a woman who shows her emotions easily, and even though she was angry she didn’t yell, she didn’t scream. She was just cold and withdrawn--just like he is when he is angry.

They haven’t spoken since he left. As he was packing, she told him that her friend Nick would be staying at the apartment while he was gone. He nodded and when he left, they hadn’t kissed, had barely said goodbye.

He resents the distance between them. He seems doomed to be separate from the people he loves--his wife, his children. Unfortunately it seems inevitable. 

He somewhat regrets leaving for these two weeks, for missing the few final days where it’s just the two of them. But he is tired of looking at his wife and seeing the bulge that is the baby, tired of feeling the baby kick when the bulge is pressed against him, when Elizabeth embraces him or when she is asleep, when she moves closer to him in bed. And he’s exhausted thinking about the baby’s arrival and the subsequent months of sleepless nights, of the apartment being taken over by the baby’s things, by the lack of freedom they’ll have… 

He has two more days of lecturing--today, he supposes, since it’s past midnight, and tomorrow. He’s planning to leave on Saturday morning. He sighs and checks the clock. It’s almost two, and he needs to be up at eight, so he should go to sleep. He closes his book, turns off the light, and goes to sleep.

 

He has breakfast delivered to his room while he gets dressed and ready for the day. He enjoys teaching far more than he expected to. Maybe he should explore the option of teaching a few classes at NYU or Columbia when he gets home… that at least will keep him out of the house. He has made it clear that he does not want to be responsible for the baby and Elizabeth has accepted that and hired a nanny.

At least she has stopped asking him for a divorce or for him to interest himself in the baby. He does not want a divorce; he loves his wife. He wants to be with her and her alone. Is that so much to ask for? Apparently yes.

He finishes his breakfast and his second cup of coffee, then finishes getting dressed, straightening his tie in the mirror and smoothing down a stray strand of hair. He picks up his briefcase and leaves his room.

He’s halfway across the lobby when the receptionist suddenly calls out for him.

‘Oh, Mr. Stone!’ the woman says. ‘Mr. Stone, I’m so, so sorry.’

He turns and looks at the receptionist, who has crossed the lobby, holding a sheaf of papers.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she says again, handing him the papers. ‘Your wife had her baby today, at one thirty this morning. We couldn’t find you last night--’

‘No, I was out,’ he says mechanically, looking down at the papers. The top one reads, _A girl! Born 1:36 AM, 7 lbs 2 oz._ ‘Thank you.’

‘Can I assist with anything? I can rearrange your travel--’

‘No,’ he says, too sharp. He deliberately gentles his tone at her look of astonishment. ‘No, I will need to finish my lectures for today so I will leave tomorrow morning.’

The receptionist nods, looking startled still. ‘The direct line to your wife’s room is on one of the messages,’ she says. ‘Just let me know what I can do to help.’

‘Thank you,’ he says, and turns to leave, looking down at the messages as he walks.

_2:32 a.m. Room 1402, direct line: 212-555-1044_

_12:04 a.m.: Mrs. Stone needs an emergency c-section_

_10:45 p.m.: Mrs. Stone is still in labor_

_8:13 p.m.: Mrs. Stone is still in labor_

_5:42 p.m.: Mrs. Stone’s water broke and she is in labor at Lenox Hill_

He doesn’t know what to think. The baby is here, so they didn’t even have the last few days alone together he was relying on. He sighs and pushes open the door to his classroom.

He is late, he realizes. Everyone is already here, including Mac, who raises an eyebrow at him. He shakes his head a bit and Mac nods in response, then stands to give a brief introduction to the class.

He goes through the lecture by rote, his mind consumed the thought of the baby. He doesn’t even know its name. And he had hoped and prayed when it arrived he’d feel better about it, that he’d be happy, but that hasn't happened. Maybe it will be better when he meets it tomorrow.

He comes to the end of his notes and finishes the lecture. Mac stands and dismisses the class, then joins him up front.

‘Is everything all right, Ben?’ he asks. ‘You seem distracted.’

‘My wife had her baby early this morning,’ he says, grateful for the precision of the English language. Her baby. 

Mac looks surprised. ‘I didn't realize Liz was pregnant.’

He nods. ‘The baby came a week early.’

‘Congratulations!’ he says, getting over his shock. ‘I'll drive you to the station, I'm sure we'd be able to make the twelve-thirty--’

‘All the trains today are sold out,’ he lies, interrupting Mac. ‘I'm having the receptionist at the Faculty Club book me on a train tomorrow morning.’

‘All right,’ Mac says, then smiles. ‘So, is the baby a boy or a girl?’

‘A girl,’ he says, gathering his things. ‘I’m sorry, Mac, I need to call Elizabeth.’

‘Of course!’ Mac says, enthusiastic. ‘Why don’t you use my office? It’s just down the hall, I’ll unlock it for you.’

‘That’s all right,’ he says. ‘I need to check on the trains. I’ll be back this afternoon for the next class.’

‘If you find a seat on an early train, please don’t worry about the class,’ Mac says.

He forces a smile. ‘Thank you. I’ll see you this afternoon.’

‘Congratulations again,’ Mac says, and he forces another smile before leaving.

 

When he returns to the club he asks the receptionist to change his tickets for a train in the morning, then goes up to his room to call his wife.

The phone rings five times before it is picked up.

‘Hello?’ comes his father-in-law’s voice.

He doesn’t know whether or not to feel relieved that it isn’t his wife.

‘Nick, hello, it’s Ben.’

‘Benjamin,’ his father-in-law says, his voice chilly. ‘At last. We’ve been expecting your call. What train will you be taking? I’ll have my driver meet you at Penn Station.’

‘Can I speak to Elizabeth, please?’ he says, ignoring Nick’s question.

‘She is with the doctor,’ he says. ‘When can we expect you?’

‘Tomorrow afternoon sometime,’ he replies. ‘I’m changing my ticket from Saturday morning.’

There’s a long, deafening silence on the other line before Nick clears his throat. ‘We will see you tomorrow, then. Thank you for calling.’

Before he can say anything else, his father-in-law hangs up on him. He stares at the phone in his hand in astonishment. Nick and Isobel are so relentlessly polite that he's startled and offended by this brusqueness. He hangs up the receiver and goes downstairs to collect his new train ticket and have lunch before his final class. 

 

‘Next stop, Penn Station,’ the conductor says, coming down the aisle. He yawns and gathers his things together. He’s exhausted--his train left Boston at four in the morning, courtesy of the overeager receptionist who was certain he wanted to take the first train to New York to meet his baby. He didn’t dissuade her, and so here he is, at a quarter to eight, about to reach Penn.

He has to go to the hospital first, he knows, because if he goes home then the doormen will report that to Elizabeth or worse, her parents. He tried to speak to Elizabeth later in the afternoon, but both times he called he was unable to reach her--first Isobel picked up the phone, then Elizabeth’s friend Nick. Both of them were distinctly frosty and when he called the last time he heard Elizabeth speaking in the background, saying something to someone, then laughing. She obviously wasn’t busy despite their claims to the contrary.

Well, he will have to make it up to her, he thinks as he walks to the exit, waiting for the train to stop. As he stands in the corridor, he ponders exactly how he’ll be able to make it up to her. He’ll buy her a piece of jewelry or something, he thinks, remembering how acquisitive his first wife was, especially after Peter and Pamela were born. He’ll go to Tiffany’s tomorrow or later today and buy her something expensive. That should help.

The train doors open and he steps out onto the platform. He’ll take a cab--he doesn’t want to navigate the subway with his bags. He navigates his way up to the street, then waits in a long line for a cab, then, finally, gives the cab the cross streets for their building. He’ll leave his bags in the lobby, he decides, then go to the hospital.

He closes his eyes as the cab wends its way to the Upper East Side. He doesn’t even know the baby’s name, he realizes, a revelation that brings home just how little he cares about this child. He should care. It’s his child, as unwanted as it is, but… but he should care, or pretend to at least.

Maybe things will be different when he meets the baby. Maybe he’ll feel the same surge of love and connection that he did when Peter and Pamela were born. He prays that it’s the case today, too. 

He changes his mind as they approach 76th and Park, asking the driver to drop him outside the hospital. That will make a better impression on Elizabeth and her family, even if all he wants to do is go home, take a shower, and have a cup of coffee. 

He steps into the hospital and into a crush of people waiting for visiting hours, he presumes. At least Lenox Hill is a nice hospital, clean and friendly. He joins the queue in front of the information desk and debates whether or not he should buy flowers now, from the hospital shop, or later, from the florist Elizabeth prefers. As the queue is taking ages, he thinks, looking at his watch, he’ll stop by the florist she prefers after his visit, after he goes home and showers and rests and has breakfast.

He finally reaches the information desk and is told by the relentlessly cheerful woman at the desk that Elizabeth is on the sixth floor, in room 1402. He thanks her and goes to see his wife.

The maternity ward--and he was told that this is the floor with private rooms--is calm, soothing, and spacious. It’s so different from the crowded ward when Peter and Pamela were born at St. Luke’s in Morningside Heights. This is quiet and obviously expensive, because in Manhattan you have to pay extra for a private room. How much are they spending on this? he thinks as he walks down the hallway. A thousand dollars a night?

He reaches Elizabeth’s room. The door is half-closed and he stops outside the door for a moment, listening. The room is quiet. Maybe she is asleep. He steps in front of the door, then into the room, past the curtain that blocks the room from view.

Elizabeth is not asleep. She is sitting up in her bed, cradling her child, looking down at the bundle in her arms with an expression of such radiant joy his heart stops for a moment. She looks up at him and the joy fades into astonishment.

‘Ben!’ she says, startled.

He forces himself to smile. ‘I came as soon as I could.’

She smiles back at him, her expression softening again into the same shining rapture. ‘Come meet your daughter,’ she says. ‘Caroline.’

He sets his bag down and approaches the bed with trepidation. This is it, he thinks, praying that he’ll take the baby--Caroline--into his arms and he’ll love her, he’ll want her. He wants that more than anything… 

He reaches the side of the bed and looks down at the baby. The baby--Caroline--is awake, looking up at him with large grey eyes, just like Elizabeth’s. The baby looks like her, too, with a swirl of auburn hair and her pointed chin.

‘Here,’ Elizabeth says, offering the baby to him. He bends and accepts his child. She looks even more like Elizabeth closer up. There is nothing of him in this child, he thinks, nothing visible at least. She is staring up at him with focused attention and he looks back down at her, willing himself to feel something, something.

He doesn’t.

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect parthenogenesis,’ he says at last, looking away from the baby and back at his wife. The tentative hope on her face disappears and something shutters closed in her expression. She holds out her arms for the baby and he places it back in her arms. Elizabeth holds the baby close, reaching down to stroke the baby’s cheek, turning her body and her attention away from him.

He looks around the room, noticing for the first time how many flowers there are. It looks like a hothouse, he thinks, taking in the large arrangements, the smaller bouquets, the thought and expense spent on his wife and child. There are hydrangeas and peonies, lilies of the valley, tiger lilies, white roses, pink roses and peonies, daisies… 

‘Who sent the flowers?’ he asks.

‘My parents, Peter and Miranda, my cousins, my aunts, my receptionist, Jamie Ross and David, Olivia Benson, Jack, and a few other people,’ she says. ‘The cards are on the dresser.

He walks to the dresser and picks up the stacks of cards, settling in the chair next to it. It’s low enough, thankfully, that he can see neither the baby nor the expression on his wife’s face, which he is sure is unpleasant.

He looks through the cards. He skips over the ones from her family, which do not interest him, and focuses on the ones from her colleagues.

 _Congratulations to you and Ben! We cannot wait to meet Caroline!_ from Jamie Ross and her husband.

 _Congratulations, Ben and Liz! I look forward to seeing if your daughter becomes a prosecutor or a psychologist,_ Jack writes.

 _I am so thrilled for you both,_ writes Olivia Benson. _Everyone at SVU is so excited to meet your daughter!_

_Congratulations and best wishes from the 27th Precinct!_

_Dearest Liz, I can’t wait to meet little Caroline! I am so excited for you!_ from Elizabeth’s receptionist Jessica.

 _Dear Liz, I am so excited for you and your husband. Thank you for all your help throughout the years,_ writes someone named Julie Atkinson, a name that sounds vaguely familiar.

‘Who is Julie Atkinson?’ he asks.

‘You don’t remember?’ comes her voice, incredulous. ‘The woman whose father murdered that boy and buried him in the apartment building?’

He remembers now, and tells her so.

‘Yes, well, she’s been my patient since then, and she owns the florist where I buy our flowers,’ Elizabeth tells him, her voice becoming absorbed again as she clearly focuses on her child. ‘She obviously found out that Caroline was born when everyone started sending flowers from her shop.’

‘Ah,’ he says, and continues to read the cards, though he is interrupted by the door swinging open and Elizabeth’s friend Nick bursts in, followed by Isobel and Nick.

‘Ben,’ his father-in-law says coolly, noticing him sitting there.

‘Good morning,’ he says, rising, setting down the cards. He extends his hand to his father-in-law, who looks away from him and goes to stand next to Elizabeth. He looks over at the bed. Elizabeth is surrounded by her parents and her friend, and they are cooing over the baby, enraptured by it. How can they feel so much for it when he feels nothing at all?

He says, ‘I need to bring my things home. I'll be back this afternoon. Elizabeth, do you need anything?’

‘No,’ she says, her voice distracted. ‘I'm fine, thank you.’

No one else speaks, so after an awkward minute waiting for an acknowledgement from someone, he collects his suitcase and leaves.


End file.
